


Fencing and Fables

by LimpBlotter



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Friendship, Not a ship, One Shot, Other, dramatic jock finds himself a sassy scholar friend, youngsters being young
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-24 19:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LimpBlotter/pseuds/LimpBlotter
Summary: Friendships all have a beginning, well here's theirs.





	Fencing and Fables

"Papa! Papa!” Beckoned a young prince to a king who was in the midst of royal attendance, a room filled with adults, figures of political powers gathered around a table only to have a child barge in unannounced. “Papa!” The young boy darted around the table and stood promptly in front of his father. Moments later the frantic patter of steps hurrying over to the same room stopped at the door.

“Good King” A maid out of breath bowed at the door frame, unwilling to enter in a room that held so much power. “Forgive me my liege, but …he ran off much faster than I had expected…” The maid blushed as the men around the table looked at the young boy who had dashed around the table towards the king, then at the boy’s father, the old king Hamlet. “Come now Hamlet, take your leave.”

“But…” He paused then looked at his father, “Papa you promised you would watch me fence…you promised you’d teach me.” Hamlet tilted his head with water pricked eyes already. His father often made these claims but once they were made, something always happened. A task came to his table, a problem rose from the horizon and as much of a father he was, he was also a King. A profession he could not ignore either.

“Leave with the maid, Hamlet.” The old king motioned for his son to go. He turned his attention to the papers at hand and his many advisors.

Hamlet’s round face was already stained with teary streams that trickled down the hillsides of his smooth skin. “King before Father, shall I too, be a parchment at your table. Then maybe…” He sniffed as his father drew a dull yet…apologetic eye at his emotional son. “then maybe you would see me!” He turned on his heel and stormed out. He dodged the out stretched hands of the help and, once again, escaped her.

“Young prince!” She spun exhausted still, “Young Hamlet!” She exhaled still mildly out of breath as she chased after him at a much slower pace.

The old king did nothing but watch; of course it pained him to see his son upset. No doubt his wife, the Queen, would be less than pleased to find that he had escaped another promise he had made his son. There were plenty of times he wished he could devote his time solely to raising his son but he was also raising a nation…and soon the nation Old Hamlet was building would be set aside for his son to conquer in his own time…

“He is just a boy.” The Queen that night began after having a rather unpleasant talk with her son. “A boy who has seen nothing but these walls of the castle, seen nothing but older men walk around with swords or papers, no one here shares his years. He looks to you for companionship and shall you blame a boy with no merits outside of here to look at you for a way to ease his imagination.” The king closed his eyes for a while not quite enjoying the chastising his Gertrude was giving him, he had a rather long day and in truth upsetting his son did consume most of his thoughts leaving him rather useless in planning.

“Give him a day…or a friend, one or the other but do not give him nothing. Hamlet is a bright prince and no doubt will make us proud but he is, just a child and has not many years to implore that childhood.”

A day? The old king wished he could promise him a day but no matter how, planning a day was harder than it seemed. But a friend? That did bring up an idea, many men who fought within his army were common men. Men with young families, surely one would be suitable for Hamlet. A friend, to ease his son’s troubles and the king’s worries. Yes, a friend for the young prince.

The next day, Hamlet was still disheartened from his father’s last rejection. As per his norm he refused to eat or get out of his bed. He laid about for hours refusing the help as they came to convince him to move. Finally, and much to Hamlet’s grand plan, his father entered the room. Attention finally served. “Rise my boy, I bring you a gift.” He motioned Hamlet up.

“To buy my affections father is a poor and crude gift…there is nothing a king can give a prince that he won’t already inherit in age.”

Smart as ever, the King couldn’t help but chuckle at his son’s quick wit. “This is not…a gift to inherit but…to enjoy for the time being.” The king walked to the end of Hamlet’s bed. “Ready yourself, bring your fencing gear.”

Hamlet sprang the bed, excited that finally his father would act as one. Teach him the way of the sword, to perry and fight and bask in how quick Hamlet was to learn. After he dressed he followed his father to the courtyard but to his surprise they did not have an audience of guards that often shadowed the prince and king. Simply one guard, and one…boy?

Yes a boy, age similar to Hamlet though he seemed a stand taller, and stockier. He had reddened hair that curled at the end and very, very…empathetic eyes. His clothes were common. Simple and drab which made those red curls stand out even more. Immediately Hamlet shrank to his father’s side as the armed man and the boy bowed fully. As a prince Hamlet tried to keep a stiff spine, as a boy uneasy by strangers he immediately clung to his father.

“Hamlet, this is Horatio. A boy about your age who’s father is a good man in my court.” The king smiled. “He will be your companion. Treat him kindly.” He spoke to Hamlet but his eyes were on the boy. “You’ll be watched carefully and I will come back to fetch you after midday.”

Hamlet tried to cling to his father more but the King very forcefully took back his wrist and motioned Hamlet back to the boy named Horatio before fully disappearing.

The boys stood about five feet from each other, in silence. Horatio looked from Hamlet’s slight panicked stare to his fencing sword. “You fence?” Horatio asked curiously. Hamlet flinched as if he hadn’t expected Horatio to actually speak. His voice was calm, soothing and sustaining like an aliment.

“Aye, I do.” He responded curtly, as if to say he was not interested where this was heading. There was no way Hamlet was going to allow his father to substitute his promises with this scapegoat of a child! Not in a million years.

 

* * *

 

“Again.” Hamlet panted out of breath, having the nib of his fencing saber close to Horatio’s neck this time. “What was that? A thousand to none?”

Horatio pushed himself off the ground, disregarding his foil beside him. “I believe its 467 to zero, my prince but alas who is keeping score.” He muttered still flushed with embarrassment and exhaustion.

“Needless to say Horatio you are not kin with the blade, so now I am curious…” Hamlet gracefully slid his saber into the small holder by his side. “What does Horatio do?”

For the near two hours they had been at it, Horatio was surprised to see the reluctant playmate suddenly taken an interest in what Horatio did, what he enjoyed and excelled at. “I study.” He answered with a hopeful truth only to be responded with a scoff from Hamlet. “It is not glorious I admit, but studying is no simple task.”

Hamlet bit his lip, he had upset him. Even if Horatio didn’t act outwardly upset. He didn’t yell or cry like Hamlet did, perhaps because in the prince’s presence he had no luxury to do so. A pity, Hamlet would be kinder to someone who was unable to display his truth emotions. “Forgive me,” he spoke once he fought back the urge to comment and laugh at him once more. “I did not intend to offend, most days I loathe studying. There is no luster or enjoyment in the pages of a book.”

“That is where you are wrong.”

“How brave you must think yourself to be, to speak to a prince who can strike you down!” Hamlet playfully took out his foil and started to jab the air in front of Horatio as if to initiate another round. Horatio’s face did not change, the smile was plastered there but his eyes and body spoke loudly in their disinterest. “…Well…come now” Hamlet pouted a little after his invitation to fence again was declined wordlessly. “Are you going to persuade me that studying isn’t a flawed folly?”

And Horatio did, Horatio told him stories that Hamlet would have thought to be fables but where pieces of history. He spoke of sciences and philosophy, of religion and maths. Perhaps it was the way it was explained, through the voice of another his age or so, or perhaps it was the way Horatio lit up when he spoke of the scholarly. He seemed so … pleased to be able to share his knowledge, he seemed so …happy to be around Hamlet.

Hamlet never spent so long with one person that wasn’t a maid chasing him down for a chore or something. He felt the emptiness of a busy father replace itself with the comfort of a …a friend.

“Horatio” the man who had accompanied the young boy found them after sneaking off to one of the many studies in the palace. “Its time for you to take your leave, bid your prince adieu”

“But—sir cannot take Horatio from me. I will not allow it.” Hamlet turned to Horatio, “you have yet to show me Latin as you promised me.”

“Father…” Horatio turned to his father who simply shook his head.

“The king had given you a limit of time, it is supper for the prince and yourself.”

“Stay for supper! We have plenty of room and plenty of food on our table.” Hamlet argued, under the table they had been seated his hand clutched the cuffs of Horatio’s left sleeve.

“My prince” the man steadied his tone, a part of him wanted to lash out as a father would to a child but this was no child of his to respond to in any manner. “perhaps another night, Come Horatio.”

“This is unfair, life is cruel and I’ll never see you again!” Hamlet crossed his arms and turned away from Horatio. “Surely you will never come back, since you are so eager to leave me.”

Melodramatic was the prince, Horatio thought to himself before gently touching the back of Hamlet’s head with his forehead. “We’ll fence again tomorrow, I’ll teach you latin, we’ll speak of great stories and kings after I lose several hundreds of fencing matches.”

“…are you a jester or is this fable a fact?”

“Look forward for tomorrow, my friend prince.” Horatio patted the shorter prince’s head before walking out of the study. “No adieus, simply a small reprieve until tomorrow.”

“Until tomorrow…friend Horatio.”

Hamlet would hold this breath until tomorrow came, and when it did it always followed the promise of another tomorrow and another.

The promise of a great friend.


End file.
